Shades of Grey
by Jenavira
Summary: A day in the life of Alfred Bester...set somewhere in the middle of Teep Novel #2


This is kind of a gap-filler for the Telepath Trilogy... It shouldn't contain any spoilers for that, but be sure you've gotten through all of Ivanova's family history. Suffice it to say that I was a bit irritated when all they said about Bester's time in St. Petersburg was that he was there...  
Disclaimer: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. JMS owns all; I hope he won't sue.  
Many thanks to Satai Trigati for the title.  
As usual, there is no disclaimer for me. Enjoy!  
  


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Young Al Bester was heading across Teeptown at a steady pace, disregarding everything around him. He had seen this view so many times that it no longer interested him; besides, he had a meeting.

As a Psi-Cop in training, Al was interned to another Psi-Cop--a Ms. Olivia Vong. She maintained strict professional distance, which Al admired, and an almost harsh unfriendliness, which he did not. He did not like not being sure if he could trust someone he was supposed to be working with. Of course she was a cop, and strict Corps, and that made her closer than a blood relation--theoretically. In actuality, he didn't trust her any more than he'd trust a blip, and that wouldn't change until he got some proof otherwise.

It wasn't as if he would really need to trust her, he reflected. Vong wasn't technically field--she was stationed in St. Petersburg, in charge of monitoring the Zombies: Psi Corp slang for teeps who chose to take sleepers rather than join the Corps. Al Bester held nothing but disdain for them, but that was still better than what he felt of mundanes. Mundanes were simply the modern equivalent of the Cro-Magnon man--neccesary in its time, but far overdue for extinction.

Al shook himself out of his reverie as he realized he'd almost missed a turn. As he turned around, he realized he was going to be late. He sped up and checked his watch. Al Bester was going to be the best, and the best were never late. 

When he finally reached the complex, only barely on time, Bester was met with an unfamiliar sight. Standing in the middle of the room, facing Vong, was a tall, slim man. He was wearing a classically cut gray-striped suit, and held his black gloved hands clasped behind his back. When he turned slightly towards the door, Al could see the glint of his Corps insignia. The man was a medical teep, he was told, and his name was Willams. Al wasn't surprised they had never met before; after all, he had only been in St. Petersburg for a little over a month. 

"He was just finishing up his report," Vong said, coming around her desk and tugging on a pair of black gloves. "It appears we have a stop to make on the south end of town." She nodded briskly to Williams, who quickly made his way out of the room. Vong picked up a hardcopy report from her desk and read from it. "Another suicide—female, fortyish, Russian…Jewish. Seems fairly straightforward—she'd been on sleepers for about a year." Bester nodded; many telepaths did not take well to having their abilities dulled or eradicated, and suicides were not rare. Vong continued, "They want us to go over the site, talk to the family…you know the drill. They told me you were good at this sort of thing—here's your chance to prove yourself." 

  


The house was on the poorer side of town, which wasn't surprising – many people wouldn't hire a telepath, even if they had gone on sleepers. Despite all the Corps had done, people still didn't like telepaths. 

As they entered the tiny but immaculate home, Bester and Vong were met by the bereaved family and a small group of rather irritated Consortium police. One of the police looked over at the entering telepaths and vented his frustration. "Where have you people been? I don't understand the need for this; we're perfectly able…" His superior cut him off with a sharp elbow to the gut and addressed Vong. 

"She's in the main bedroom down the hall; we took a look around, but we didn't touch anything." The man's thick Russian voice seemed strained. Bester tossed aside the impression with disdain. Mundanes were so upset by death. He'd looked it in the face; it was nothing to be afraid of. Merely an end. 

They found her where the officer had said she was, slumped in an uncomfortable-looking position on the bed. There was no blood, for which Bester was both relieved and surprised. Telepath suicides tended to be messy. Vong lifted a bottle of sleeping pills from the sideboard and shook it. It was empty. He nodded, understanding her intent. Then came the part of the job that he both feared and relished. 

A scan after death was different from a deathbed scan. When the person was still dying, you could feel them slowly slipping away, eventually stepping through a door and into a light so bright it seemed to burn your soul. A scan after the individual was already dead was more like playing back a recording—the individual's thoughts at the moment of death. In a situation like this, those thoughts could often distinguish between murder and suicide. Of course, telepathic evidence wasn't admissible in courts—but that had never concerned the Corps. 

As he looked down on the corpse, Bester realized that the police had been true to their word—no one had even bothered to close her eyes. They were an intense blue, staring blankly at the ceiling. Bester focused his attention on the mind behind those eyes, fighting his way through the stupor of death and the haze of vague telepathic imprints to Sofie Ivanov's last coherent thoughts. 

_::I can't. I'm sorry, Andrei, Ganya, Susan…I can't…::_

Bester came out of the deep scan with a jerk, checking his watch and absently noting that almost an hour had passed. He carefully closed her eyes before looking up at Vong and nodding in confirmation. "Suicide, no doubt." Vong nodded back and the two began the careful procedure of eradicating all telepathic debris from the room before they left. 

  


Bester followed Vong down the hall and out to the front door, echoing her cold nod to the mundanes as they left. Suddenly a sharp cry broke out from the living room behind him, and the Psi-Cops turned around sharply. A small girl, perhaps five years old, with her mother's intensely blue eyes was standing in the middle of the room screaming. 

"You killed her! She wasn't one of you, she was nice, and she was good, but you made her do it and now she's dead! You…" 

"Susan! Shh!" her father cut her off, scooping her up and putting a hand over her mouth as he cast a terrified glance at the Cops. Bester looked over at his superior and sent a question. 

::Should we do something?:: 

::Don't bother,:: Vong sent back. ::It happens all the time.:: 

Bester nodded and the two Psi-Cops headed silently for their car. 

  


As they drove back to the Corps facility, Bester gave voice to a question that had been bothering him since they'd left. "Are you sure the victim was the only teep in the family?" 

"Positive," Vong replied without taking her eyes off the road. "Husband's a mundane, and neither kid shows up on the tests. Besides, I would have noticed." She seemed totally unconcerned. 

Bester nodded uncomfortably and turned away, keeping his thoughts to himself. The memory of those intense blue eyes refused to go away. 

  
  
  
  


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Well, what do you think? Tell me! I crave feedback! 


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